I’ve got an hour to write this, then I have to make a dip for a party I’m attending today because life goes on. I woke up this morning believing, truly believing, that yesterday was a dream. It wasn’t. I didn’t turn on the news to know that I was wrong, I haven’t even looked at my email or my newspapers or turned on the TV. I know yesterday wasn’t a dream because the plates I left on the counter are still there.
There is a lot in life that I don’t know about. Not to mean that I don’t have an opinion, but to mean that I simply don’t know about. I have plenty of opinions on stuff I don’t know about. This gig that the Mayans have, that the world will end on 12.21.12 is one of those things. I’m willing to give the Mayans their shot, that their prediction that our world will explode and we will all be toast, might not be so off the mark. I tend to take things like this prediction on a metaphorical level: that the planet will explode, metaphorically giving way to enlightenment: love, peace and higher consciousness (yes, because trust me — we don’t have high consciousness as a whole group of humans), and that our hate and fear, the few things that I believes separates us (other than our thumbs) from the so-called savagery of animals, will be toast.
I didn’t watch the news yesterday. I was online writing an entirely different post, about my wrestling a 30′ aluminum dryer exhaust hose (which is still going to publish soon because it’s funny and we need funny), when the news broke about Newtown, Connecticut. But everything seems trivial in the wake of yesterday’s events. I still have yet to tear open a newspaper bag or click on my newsfeed. I don’t need to know the details. I don’t need to really understand the situation. It’s not that I am going to go blind and all ostrich head-in-the-sand on this matter; it’s that I don’t need to know more about it. I don’t need to find a way to relate this situation to my life any more that it undeniably has.
This isn’t mine, this situation. We know the facts: that many children will never learn cursive. That many children who were likely still learning to tie their shoes won’t have to tarry over that task. Some people suggest that there is a lesson in this. What? To love my children possibly more than I do? To be more insecure about their safety than I already am? To know that life is precious and that we don’t know what will happen from one moment to the next? We have the weather and other natural disasters to prove that.
The lesson for me in any of these matters is that
life death is really random. It’s at moments like this when I wonder about God. Is there one? Where is His mercy? That more people didn’t perish? That this situation wasn’t worse? Ok. Let’s try that on. Mmmmm thanks, God, for not letting there be something worse than what happened yesterday. Something worse is sorta moot. So, no… no thanks.
I have long believed that humans were probably the worst thing to happen to this planet. Talking heads wax superior and say our gift of higher intelligence and abilities to reason are what set us apart from the animals. There also used to be a theory that our ability to communicate also separates us. If you own a pet or walk outside and hear birds, you will know that animals have had that communication gig down for a few million years. All these so-called abilities of ours are great, sure, but I also happen to believe it’s what makes us worse. I don’t know about animals: do they fight through fear and give a really bad idea a good reason? I don’t think so. When I turn on the vacuum (despite having cleaning ladies, I do own a couple vacuums), does my cat, the one who’s a dick, stand guard against his ego and fight his urge to high tail it like a baboon and get the hell out of dodge? No. He gratefully submits to his id and his panic to clear the room. Hissing.
I have strong opinions about bullets. It has been watered down for me to the bullets. You can’t injure many people in an instant without the bullets. You can bring the gun, but without the bullets… it’s just a heavy steel thing. Blame. I have strong opinions about blame. The 2nd Amendment; another item upon which I have opinions. The 2nd Amendment is important to people. Look: it’s part of living in 16th century America. The colonists and revolutionaries needed to protect themselves from the street muggers in front of Ye Olde Shoppe Rite and the thugs outside the blacksmith’s shop. That was snarky. It was intentional. Things need to change with the gun laws in this country, no doubt. Some suggest the gun lobby is very strong and that it won’t relent its stronghold on its 18th century foundations. Well, I will see your NRA and 2nd Amendment and raise you 84 American deaths this year and a multi-millennial Mayan prediction as a better reason to rewrite gun legislation.
I am one who believes that the Mayans are right: that the age of enlightenment is right before us and that the deaths of 27 precious lives at the hands of a person who could rationalize killing them might be the argument to thrust the NRA from of its outhouse of fear.
So, here’s to hoping that what I believe, with my so-called gifts of higher intelligence, reason, ability to communicate and thumbs: that the Mayans are right and that our world, as we we have come to know it: a world (and our own personal internal worlds) at times teeming with hate, fear, and utter hopelessness will end and that we will have a new dawn: one of higher consciousness, peace, one of love and love and love and love. I guess I am officially a hippie now.
Poet Robert Frost might’ve been on to something when he scribed, “Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice,” I hope his “prophecy” that hate was the threat — not the Mayans — was right.
ps – this post was meant to be written. i pressed publish and then my music, “Sri” by Shantala (yoga music) just ended and my 59-minute daisy timer clanged to announce my time was up. our time is up… we need enlightenment.